Let Sleeping Dogs Lie
by Claire Geraldine
Summary: Sequel to The Ugliness of Nepotism, summary of which is inside. A new case provides the team with a distraction from their personal affairs: scheming, analyzing, lusting and pining. CamChase, ensemble.


Disclaimer: I don't own House, or any of the characters. Because life sucks.

The Ugliness of Nepotism:

- We met Laura Cuddy, Lisa Cuddy's reticent niece who's currently attending med school.

- Cuddy assigned Laura to the diagnostic department, and later revealed to House that her choice was based on the hope that House's unreserved manner would bring Laura "out of her shell".

- Chase admitted to Foreman that he was attracted to Cameron.

- House, having found a scribbled "E.F" wrapped in a heart in the margin of Laura's notes, concluded that she has a crush on Foreman. Naturally, he went to Wilson.

- Chase was allotted to a night shift in the ICU, and Cameron promised to take him to breakfast in the morning.

- Cameron and Chase kissed, but came to an unspoken agreement to keep things professional.

* * *

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

* * *

"Um… A double espresso, scrambled egg on toast and three energy bars, please."

Cameron raised her eyebrows skeptically and looked over the top of her menu across the table at Chase. Admittedly, he looked as though he could do with a high-energy breakfast, but that was, quite possibly, the worst combination of foods she'd ever heard a doctor order.

"I'll just have a regular coffee, please," Cameron added. She surveyed Chase once again. He had lost the elegant posture she had noticed the evening before, and was slumped casually against the red leather of the booth seating. He also hadn't bothered changing back out of the comfortable scrubs from the night before, instead pulling on his jacket over them. His hair was tousled and flagging disobediently when he twisted his head. He was also developing premature bags underneath his eyes and his eyelids were drooping lazily. Despite his apparent weariness, however, he kept his positive, laid-back demeanour and was acting as pleasant and companionable as ever. "I don't think your physician would be too pleased with that order," she remarked, leaning forward onto the table to talk to him.

Chase smiled amusedly. "What my physician doesn't know won't hurt him. Besides, it's all for my own well-being."

"Oh, I must have missed the lecture where caffeine, cholesterol and empty kilocalories make Rob a healthy boy."

Chase shrugged, "'You snooze, you lose." Cameron smiled at him, and watched sympathetically as he yawned.

"Busy night?"

"Not really, but just when I'd turn in, my pager would go off." He sat forward when the waitress brought the drinks to the table. "Thanks," he muttered to her, before taking a long sip of his espresso.

"So, were you ten thousand miles east, what'd you be ordering?" Cameron asked him, bringing her own coffee to her lips.

He looked up at her skeptically. "Oh, we wouldn't be ordering. Yeah, back in Oz, we hunt our breakfast with boomerangs." Cameron smirked testily at him, realising it was a stupid question. He was tired; she'd play along.

"Oh, I didn't realise the Chases were aboriginal." Something struck her. "Are you one fully Australian?"

"No, my father's Czech and my mother's half South African."

Cameron looked interested. "Have you ever been?"

Chase shrugged half-heartedly. "When I was younger. I don't really remember." He shook his head dismissively, and Cameron decided to change the subject. Much though she loved the feeling of satisfaction that came with getting someone to open up, she decided to let it rest.

"What nurse was on last night?" she asked strategically. His face lit up at the prospect of such distant conversation. She loved this Chase. Well, not _loved_, per say, but found very amiable. Bitchy Chase. The man loved to bitch.

"Uch, Nurse Helen. Menopausal, much?" Cameron smiled at him over the rim of her coffee cup, as he animatedly described the broody nurse, his usual abundance of energy restored by the caffeine.

* * *

House limped past reception as covertly as his useless leg could manage. He had arrived particularly early – today's schedule involved a lot of scheming and evilness, as well as his usual 'workload'.

"Dr. House, you're in early," noted the young girl at the central desk.

House looked patronisingly down at her. "Barbara, have you been taking those simplicity-pills again?"

She scowled. "My name's Rachel."

"That's nice, Barbara."

"Whatever. Dr. Chase said he has a case for you."

House scratched his head puzzled. He stared at her, squinting, then stood back and beheld her for dramatic effect. "Chase? Has oestrogen finally overcome you? It's quite a disappointment, you're prettier as a guy after all."

The secretary shot him a dirty look, and continued, "He left a message for you." She handed him a sheet of blue paper and turned back to her work dismissively.

"Yo Barb, why didn't he just tell me about the case?"

She turned back to him, extremely irritable. "He's gone for breakfast with Dr. Cameron," she informed him with forced patience.

"Thanks, Barb."

That put his plans for a day of slacking down the swanney. Odd, though, breakfast with Cameron? House considered turning back and pressing Barbara for more details. Instead, he got into the elevator and scanned over Chase's untidy scrawl.

_House,_

_Was asked for a consult this morning, and had a boy admitted to the ICU after being attacked savagely by a dog. Totally gruesome. Was given tetanus shots, has been operated on to stabalize, but is still showing symptoms of confusion and sweating profusely._

_Rich family. Cuddy would approve._

_R. Chase_

It was, if nothing else, worth taking a look at him. He didn't normally meet patients, but dog attack victims were impressive. Horrid, but impressive. Although, 'gruesome' to Chase could be a black eye and dishevelled hair. He decided to head up and investigate.

* * *

Foreman had just reached the front entrance when he heard someone call his name. He turned around on time to see Laura come running towards him, hands clasped around her clipboard as usual. He sighed silently to himself. He didn't need this; tiptoeing around shy med-students was not part of his job description. He'd be a rude jerk to her if he didn't think rude-jerkiness much more of a House tendency. And he did _not_ want to be like House.

"Morning, Laura," he greeted cordially. She smiled briefly at him, reaching his side, and they walked together inside the building. "Are you gonna be joining us again today?" he asked amicably, looking over at her, awaiting a response.

"I guess," she shrugged. They strolled towards the elevator, and Foreman, envisaging the prospect of what lay ahead, hesitated and began to veer off path.

"You know what?" he told told her, "I'm gonna take the stairs. Work off my breakfast." He jabbed a thumb behind his back towards the stairwell, gave her a smile and turned away.

"Me too," he heard from behind him as he made for the ground floor landing room. He grimaced in annoyance and kept walking.

* * *

House was staring in at the ICU patient through the window when Wilson perched himself by his side. Wilson winced at the sight of the bed-ridden boy inside.

"Unfortunate," he surmised. "New case?"

"Hot contender. Boy's gonna have some wicked-cool scars if he makes it through this." House _was_, in fact, impressed. The boy's skin, which had been cleaned by the nurses, was broken in several places. His cheek had been mutilated, and was now a bandaged, swollen mass. A puncture in the hollow of his shoulder had also been covered. The rest, presumably equally disfigured, was obscured from view by his hospital gown. The covers of the bed were drawn down, and the boy's parents, huddled together at the side of his bed wearing fleeces, were the telltale sign that the thermostat was keeping the room at a very low temperature.

Wilson stared into the room for a moment before turning away, too horrified by the boy's injuries. House also tore himself away from the window and together they walked to the Diagnostics Department. "Any progress with the star-crossed lovers?"

"You mean Homey-o and Too-quiet?"

"The very same."

"Not yet. I don't want to rush it. It has so much potential."

"You realise that if you go through with this, he'll be in a strop for months, right?"

"He's always in a strop. You know Foreman. That's why he needs a woman like Laura to tame him."

"Tame him?" Wilson asked, amused.

"Yeah, it's lame metaphor, but this case has put wild animals on the brain."

* * *

The whole diagnostics team assembled in the conference.

House was the last to limp into the room. "Did you take up a new case?" Chase asked him as he made his way to the drawing board.

"Mmmhmm. Barbara gave me your note."

Chase looked puzzled. "Who's Barbara?"

House scoffed in disgust. "You yuppie doctors have no consideration for your paramedical colleagues." He turned to the board and began writing symptoms. "Sixteen-year-old victim of a vicious dog attack, brought in last night and stabilized, and admitted to ICU." The board read: 'Abdominal cramps, delirium, excess perspiration'.

Foreman surveyed the board pensively. Chase's eyes rapidly flicked between the three symptoms at he tried to construct a guess. Cameron was looking hopelessly up at the board, and Laura had her head down, reading the symptoms off her own notes she had taken onto her clipboard.

"Come on, people! Okay, from scratch. What diseases can we get from dogs?" House encouraged, trying to enthuse his employees.

"Rabies," Foreman began.

"Toxocariasis and Hydatid disease," Chase continued.

"Scabies and tinea." Cameron ventured.

Laura just scrawled furiously.

"Step two, break it down," House prompted.

"Rabies fits the symptoms, but would require a nine-day incubation period before any of the symptoms present," Chase put in.

"Toxocariasis doesn't fit, and Hydatid disease is unlikely to cause that kind of wide array of symptoms," Foreman noted.

"Unless larvae have lodged themselves in the brain and stomach muscles and the white blood cells have proposed battle," House added.

Foreman shook his head. "We wouldn't have any symptoms if it were Hydatid disease. That little surprise takes years to unfold."

"Scabies and tinea are dermatological, and the skin doesn't seem affected, apart from hyperhidrosis," Cameron told them.

House rolled his eyes at their lack-lustre attempt at diagnoses. "Okay, geniuses, what is it?"

Foreman looked at his colleagues resolutely. "It's obviously poisoning. Transferred from, maybe, the dog's mouth to the boy's blood stream."

"Septicaemia?" Cameron asked. "Micro-organisms occurring in the saliva of the dog."

House nodded, pleased with this. "I like it."

"Maybe the poisoning came from the soil. Boy was rolling around with open wounds until help arrived," Chase reminded them.

"So, you think some kind of defoliant?" Foreman asked him, intently considering this.

"It's possible."

"Chlorate poisoning? Paraquat or parathion poisoning?" Foreman listed.

"Nitric acid," Cameron added.

"Okay, this could go on for a while," House interrupted decisively. "Let's just run some blood samples and see who rules and who drools, mmmkay?"

* * *

Foreman, Chase, Cameron and Laura waited as the elevator doors drew back onto the ICU floor. As one, the stepped out and made their way to the patient's room. Inside, the form of Andrew Coy was sprawled helplessly upon the bed, his leg in traction. A lady, sporting red-rimmed eyes, was staring intently at him from her bedside chair, and a man standing in the corner was gazing out the window into the parking lot.

"Dr. Chase," the woman greeted at their entry, her red eyes momentarily brightening in anticipation. The man in the corner turned, giving them his rapt attention.

"Mr. and Mrs. Coy, this is Dr. Cameron and Dr. Foreman," Chase introduced. "The head of diagnostics, Dr. House, has agreed to take your son's case on board, so they'll be working with your son, as well as me."

"So, what does that mean for Andrew?" the mother asked them. Her husband strolled closer to the bed, putting his hand on his wife's shoulder.

Foreman took a deep breath before responding. "It means he'll have four doctors working solely on his diagnosis and treatment. We have access to all the diagnoses facilities provided by the hospital, so under our department, your son has a much better chance of survival."

"We're gonna start by doing some blood tests; you don't mind if we take a few samples?" Cameron asked, stepping forward. The woman nodded sadly and looked down, and her husband eyed Cameron's progress as she prepped the boy's arm. Chase inserted the needle into the boy's arm, and Foreman began to explain the purpose of the procedure.

"At the moment, the most likely cause is some type of substance that made its way into your son's bloodstream from the dog's mouth. The blood samples should tell us if that is the case."

Cameron and Chase finished up and placed a plaster over the site of the opening on his arm. Mr. Coy watched as they completed the procedure.

"When do you expect Andrew to wake up?" he asked no one in particular.

"He should be awake in a couple of hours," Cameron assured him. Nodding to the parents, Chase, Cameron and Foreman left the room, Cameron tugging on Laura's white coat sleeve as she passed her. Laura, agape at the sight of Andrew's motionless frame, withdrew from her trance and followed the others out the door.

* * *

House strode purposefully towards Wilson's office, ambition etched across his face. Ignoring the receptionist, he grasped the door handle, and pushed against the door, carelessly barging headfirst into the hard wooden surface.

"Son of a…" A combination of pain and shock overcoming him, he rubbed his head, and began pounding on Wilson's office door.

The door opened to reveal Wilson's concerned face, a mixture of apology and amusement. House narrowed his eyes and stepped inside. "I, uh, had a lock installed," Wilson conceded.

"I hadn't noticed," House countered, rubbing his temple. He glared at Wilson. "You've killed my mood. And destroyed some brain cells." Wilson grimaced guiltily, and then rounded his desk to sit in his chair. "Thank God I have an abundance," House added, sitting on the examination chair.

"Just a precaution. Cuddy had me install it after last time. That patient has since sued, you know," Wilson informed him seriously.

"The Big Guy didn't give me such delicate features to see them contorted in worry. Really, do I look like a give a damn?" he asked, turning his face to the side to showcase his profile. "Anyway, back to business. I need your assistance."

"Why does that worry me?" Wilson asked, frowning slightly.

"I'm going to ignore that. I need you to help me with my master plan."

"Which one?"

"The one that involves Eric and Laura sitting in a tree."

"Ah, of course. What're you planning, a 'staff dinner' that no one shows up to except them?"

House looked offended at this suggestion, and then neutralized his expression. "No, mine's much more original. I'm thinking a bouquet from a 'You Know Who' sent to Laura, maybe some tulips, 'cause Foreman's mildly allergic. Either he'll display symptoms similar to those of swooning, or he'll avoid her for a while. Then somewhere deep in her complex female mind, she'll figure he's avoiding her 'cause it was him who sent the flowers. You following this?"

"And you need my help, why?"

"Because all evil masterminds need a sidekick. Brain had Pinky."

Wilson looked at him skeptically. "You realise there's about one chance in a million that it'll work out exactly like that, right?"

"I like those odds. Care to make it interesting?" House asked, his hand reaching for his jacket pocket.

"Just how interesting are we talking about?"

* * *

Cameron, Chase and Foreman arrived back in the lounge thirty minutes later, having lost Laura along the way. Chase immediately headed for the coffee machine, his energy levels inert after the undemanding lab work. Foreman and Cameron looked on sympathetically as he clumsily spilt coffee on the counter top in a rush to gulp it down.

Cameron paged House to meet back in the department lounge, and they sat around, awaiting his return. The blood samples had shown nothing; Andrew's blood was showing no sign of poisoning and didn't suggest an infection. While they had closed off an entire area of possibilities, they were, for all intents and purposes, back to square one.

House sauntered inside, grinning broadly. He sat down at the table, and then looked around, to find his team staring bemusedly at him. "What?"

"Why are you so happy?" Cameron asked him, her brow creased in suspicious confusion.

"Why are _you_ so _not_? Menstrual cramps?" House fired back. Cameron scowled at him and looked away.

"No septicaemia. No parathion or paraquat or pesticide poisoning. Nothing," Chase informed him. House frowned, puzzled. He looked down, studying the lab results Chase handed him.

"So what's up with our boy?" House asked. "It's not poisoning, what is it?"

"Something that was _on_ the dog, not _in_ it?" Cameron suggested.

"Allergens?" Foreman put in, looking back to Cameron. "A rich city boy who came in contact with an allergy he didn't know he had in the countryside."

Cameron dismissed this. "Even hypersensitive reactions wouldn't cause steady sweating like that."

Chase rubbed at his eyes. "A tick in the dog's hair?" he ventured absently.

"What are you thinking?" House prompted. "Lyme disease?"

Chase shook his head. "Encephalitis."

Foreman nodded in agreement. "Some types of encephalitis can be transmitted through tick bites."

"Fabi-ola," House said, clapping his hands together and standing up. "Get an MRI and _then_ talk to me."

"An MRI?" Foreman interrupted. "'Kid has braces."

House rolled his eyes. "Fine. Cameron and Chase, schedule a CT scan. Foreman, I need to talk to you." Chase and Cameron stood up uncertainly, before reluctantly leaving the two alone in the lounge.

"What's this about?" Foreman asked, leaning back in his seat.

"It's about Laura. I talked to Cuddy, and she reckons Laura's never been, well, very _vocal_, but I'm not convinced. I think she may have an inferiority complex. Now, you're a neurologist, and you're more qualified in neurotic diagnoses than I am. So I'd appreciate it if you'd just be aware of this while around her. See if you can pick up any signs; how she responds to failure, how she reacts to compliments…" House trailed off and looked up to find Foreman staring at him suspiciously. "What?" he asked innocently.

"What do _you_ care if she has an inferiority complex?" Foreman asked him dubiously, cocking an eyebrow cynically.

House tried to look offended. "I care! Of course I care! Inferiority complexes can result in aggression, and– and violent outbursts, and if the well-being of my staff is in jeopardy…"

Foreman looked at him skeptically again, and then shook his head. "Okay, fine. But I don't buy it, House. You're up to something." Again, House feigned offence, stuttering incoherently. "Yeah, yeah. I'll give you a detailed analysis of her behaviour. Although the whole report will probably fit on a post-it note." He stood up and left the room. House leaned back in chair, stretching his arms behind his neck to support his head. He smiled in satisfaction.

* * *

Chase and Cameron strolled back towards the patient's room, conversing amicably, as seemed to be their recent comfortable trend. It was only one hour until they'd be dismissed for the day, and their pace was slow and leisurely.

"'Bet you can't wait to get home, huh?" Cameron asked him, enjoying his immediately yearning reaction to her statement. He exhaled deeply, and bobbed his head dreamily. She laughed at his enthusiasm.

"Open door, locate bed, succumb to gravity, comatose." She laughed again as he shivered in anticipation. "What about you?"

Cameron opened her mouth to speak, before hesitating. She looked down, and then back up again, and shook her head. "I have a… thing." Chase raised his eyebrows.

"What kind of 'thing'?"

Cameron shook her head more emphatically. "It's nothing, really."

Chase looked at her, amused. "What, you're not telling me because you're ashamed? Because _my_ plans top _your_ 'thing'?" He grinned as she reddened slightly. "Allison Cameron, what is so _scandalous_?"

Cameron considered him for a moment, staring seriously at him, biting her lip. Then she looked away again. "It's really nothing," she replied, swallowing hard.

Chase, disappointed, nodded obligingly to her. She shot him a quick, grateful smile, and together they entered the Andrew's room. Andrew, now awake, was still slumped on the bed, looking exhausted. His father was sitting on the bed, and his mother was still occupying the chair at the bedside. Mr. Coy stood to greet them. Both doctors nodded accordingly.

"We got the results of the blood tests back, but they didn't really tell us anything. The blood samples were normal, which rules out what we previously suspected," Cameron told them.

"We've scheduled Andrew for a CT scan first thing tomorrow morning," Chase added.

Mrs. Coy looked up nervously. "What's that for?"

"We're checking for encephalitis, a viral disease caused by inflammation of the brain," Cameron explained. "We think it could have been transmitted through a tick bite."

Andrew shook his head adamantly. "It– it wasn't a tick," he told them, breathing shakily, "it was this– this huge dog with sharp teeth, and– and spit dripping–"

"We know that, Andrew, we're just gonna do a CT scan to make sure it wasn't a tick on the dog that's making you sick," Chase soothed, cutting him off. "Tomorrow, after you've had some more rest, we'll get the details of what really happened, okay?" Andrew swallowed and nodded, his eyes still clouded in recollection of the trauma. Cameron smiled kindly at him, and she and Chase exited the room once more.

"Poor kid," Chase murmured under his breath, once out of earshot. They strode down the hallway towards the elevator, heading back to the lounge.

"You ever get bitten by a dog?" Cameron asked him curiously, looking up at him as they walked on. Something suddenly struck her. "Ever get bitten by a _dingo_?" she further probed.

Chase grinned at this. "No," he told her shrewdly. "But my friend did," he conceded as an afterthought. Cameron's eyes widened.

"_Seriously_?"

"Yep. _Totally_ mangled her leg. She walked with a limp afterwards. We used to call her 'hoppy'." He frowned at this after he said it, as though it bothered him. Cameron ignored it; she wanted to reprimand this, but she knew he was tending to that himself.

"Wow. I've been bitten, but nothing like _that_. Just by my brother's terrier," she explained dismissively as she pushed the button to summon the elevator. It opened immediately with a soft _ding_, and she and Chase stepped inside, Chase still nodding accordingly with her statement.

"Yeah, and from what I remember, you probably even _enjoyed_ being bitten." Cameron's head snapped in his direction. She shoved his shoulder in shock and offence. He chuckled at her incredulity as the elevator doors closed.

* * *

Foreman entered the diagnostics lounge as Cameron and Chase were putting on their coats, ready to head home. He waited for them to finish speaking before he spoke up.

"Chase, I need to talk to you." Chase looked up at him as he fixed the collar of his jacket. Cameron also looked up before grabbing her bag and picking up her keys. She hated when anyone kept something hidden from her. But unless there was a valid reason why Foreman wasn't telling her, she'd find out from Chase in the morning. He was easily manipulated.

"See you tomorrow, guys," she said, and left the room. Chase smoothed his hair before turning to Foreman curiously.

"What's up?"

Foreman maintained his customary serious expression. "I need your advice." He paused as he contemplated the best way to go about this. "How might I compliment someone who only wants to be seen professionally?" His façade revealed none of his discomfort in putting this across to Chase.

Chase, taken aback by this, was bemused. "What do you mean?"

Foreman grimaced slightly awkwardly. "How might I compliment a woman," he began, "in a way which shows I respect her professionally?" Chase raised his eyebrows and considered this, scratching his head. He looked back to Foreman after a moment.

"I don't know. Maybe… ask her opinion on something and agree with it? Or find her area of expertise and show you're impressed?" Chase suggested blankly. He looked bewildered by the request. "_Why_? I didn't know your preference was the intellectual type. Who's the lucky woman?"

Foreman shook his head wearily as he looked down. "You don't want to know," he muttered earnestly.

Chase studied him for a minute. "It's not Laura, is it?" Foreman looked up at him pleadingly and opened his mouth, about to explain.

"You're right, I don't want to know," Chase interrupted quickly. Foreman's shoulders slumped and he looked down at his feet resignedly. Chase grabbed his bag and brushed past him towards the door, patting Foreman's shoulder sympathetically as he left.

* * *

House was first to arrive at the hospital the next morning. Once seated behind the desk in his office, he picked up the telephone receiver and dialled for information.

"Hi. Can I get a number for a really, really small-time florist in Princeton?"

"Excuse me?" came the mystified reply.

"Yeah, you know, like an old lady working out of her own garden."

"Okay," the operator replied after a moment. "Um, Marie Winston? I'll connect you, if you like."

"I like."

House listened as the call was redirected. Trapping the phone receiver between his shoulder and cheek, he opened the top drawer on his desk and pulled out a jotter pad. Flicking through the pages, he stopped on a rough draft of his decided Hallmark message.

"Marie Winston," came a voice from the line. House adjusted the receiver and held it to his ear.

"Hi. I'm wondering about having a bouquet designed," House informed the woman. "First of all, what is your policy on receipts?" He tapped his pencil off the jotter pad impatiently as he awaited her reply.

"I'm willing to be very lenient with whatever requests you might have," the woman offered, "but only for the right price."

"Excellent. I'll need you to fax me on a _very vague_ receipt." House's plan favoured an expensive bouquet, but unless he could pass on the receipt to the hospital accountant, he'd spare the personal expense. "You'll get your money. Now, the message: you got a pen handy?" House paused as he heard the distant sound of rummaging.

"Go on."

House cleared his throat. "_Dearest Laura_." House wrinkled his nose in disgust at his composition. "_Just to let you know how much I'm enjoying working with you. Yours truly, You-Know-Who_." House listened until the sound of a pen scratching stopped. "Okay, I'll have a courier pick it up around midday. I want it lavish and girly. With lots of high-pollen tulips."

* * *

Foreman waited in his car until he saw Laura pull in. Thank God House hadn't seen him. The thought of Foreman lurking in the front seat of his car waiting for a young girl was too reminiscent of the ghetto urban legend for House to refrain from commenting.

He waited until she was the desired distance from him before stepping out of his car. "Laura!" he called out. She turned curiously, before her face returned to its usual state of neutrality. Foreman jogged to catch up with her, and she smiled slightly by way of greeting. Foreman indicated for them to continue walking to the hospital entrance. "So, any thoughts on this case? You were right about the last one, you might just be the sharpest mind among us." Laura blushed slightly, and shook her head modestly. She was silent for a minute, and Foreman began uncertainly considering trying a different approach. Laura spoke up suddenly.

"I don't think we should have ruled out Hydatid disease." Foreman looked up at her surprised. "Her system could be having an adverse reaction to larvae. I think we should do an x-ray as a precaution."

Foreman disagreed with this, and stood by the argument he had made against Chase the day prior. But instead of phrasing his opposition, he clamped his teeth together and curved his mouth into what he hoped resembled an open-minded face of consideration. He bobbed his head slowly.

"That's a wise suggestion, Laura," he forcefully conceded. "I'm impressed. I'll arrange an x-ray." Foreman clapped her softly on the back and smiled at her. "Well done," he praised.

Laura looked flattered. She blushed crimson and stared down at her feet as they entered the building together.

* * *

Chase arrived at the hospital feeling rejuvenated and refreshed after eleven hours of undisturbed sleep. He headed straight up to the lounge where he pulled on his white coat and chose water over coffee for a change.

Foreman arrived with Laura shortly afterward, and the two sat down beside him. The atmosphere was verging on tense in the silence that settled after morning greetings, so Foreman cast his mind around for something to say.

"Any sign of House yet?" he asked of Chase.

Chase's face momentarily conveyed relief. "I haven't seen him, but the coffee machine was on so he must be around here somewhere." Trying to prolong this subject of conversation, he went on. "He has been acting odd recently, hasn't he?"

Foreman took this as his queue to reply. "You mean odder than usual?" Their conversation was forced, but Laura seemed to be suffocating all other channels of verbal interaction.

"I resent that." House limped carelessly into the room, and the other three turned to look at him. He made his way across to the coffee maker and busied himself there for a minute. "Chase, you're glowing," he remarked absently, his back still turned to them. Chase frowned bemusedly as the other two looked over to stare at him. House turned to face the others, now bearing a mug of coffee.

Cameron pulled open the glass door and entered the lounge, glancing around as she pulled on her coat. "Sorry– traffic…" she muttered under her breath. House looked around at everyone.

"Okay children, we've got a fun-filled day ahead of us, so I'm going to pair you up until lunchtime. Cameron and Chase: do the CT and get your sleuth on to find me more details. Foreman and Laura: blood work in the labs. Test for everything, not just what might have been transmitted during the attack." Foreman narrowed his eyes in annoyance. _Daunting_ was an inadequate term to describe the prospects of the next three hours.

"How about an x-ray as a precaution?" he suggested, winking at Laura.

House studied their interaction calculatingly. "Why?" he asked.

"To ensure it's not Hydatid," Foreman answered. Chase raised his eyebrows. It wasn't like Foreman to submit his initial standing. He looked to Cameron, who appeared equally taken aback.

House, however, was looking between Laura and Foreman, clearly pleased about something. He skipped over the uncharacteristic statement and voiced his consent.

* * *

Cameron and Chase walked briskly to Andrew's room after leaving the lounge. While Chase was alert and in a pleasant mood, Cameron was tired and grouchy. Having been late, she hadn't had the luxury of psyching herself with coffee before settling into her routine. She decided to take her mind off her fatigue, and brought up the topic she'd intended on asking.

"What did Foreman want yesterday evening?" she asked him. He looked confused for a minute as he tried to remember.

"Oh, that," he finally identified. "I was only half listening. I was really tired." Cameron stared unblinkingly into his eyes, sceptical of this. "He just wanted some advice."

Cameron probed further. "Advice on what?"

Chase ceased walking and turned to look at her. She stared back expectantly. He sighed in concession. "Advice on how best to compliment Laura." He looked away guiltily after this revelation. Cameron's jaw dropped in shock. She was dumbfounded. Chase resumed his brisk face, and Cameron stalled only a moment before she swallowed the information and followed him.

"Wait-wait-wait: does he _like_ her? Foreman? _Eric_ Foreman?" Chase winced at her hysterical incredulity. Foreman would kill him.

She trailed behind him, interrogating him ineffectively all the way to Andrew's room. Once inside the door, Cameron restored her professional demeanour as she and Chase greeted the Coys.

"How are you feeling this morning?" she asked Andrew pleasantly.

"Tired. I didn't get much sleep," he replied dejectedly from the bed.

"Any nausea?" Chase asked, checking his temperature.

"No. My head hurts." Mrs. Coy began stroking her son's forehead affectionately.

Chase checked the thermometer. "Your fever has come down," he remarked, pleased. "I'll call a nurse in here to get you ready and we'll be back in five minutes to take you for your CT scan." Chase filled in the chart and he and Cameron left.

Once in the hallway, Cameron resumed her assessment. "So did he tell you why he wanted to compliment her? I mean, _obviously_ he likes her, but is he planning on asking her out?" she questioned eagerly.

Chase sighed again as he made his way to the nurses' station. "I don't know, Allison, he didn't mention it," he moaned. "None of this gets back to him, you hear me?" He leaned over the counter and tried for the nurse's eye. "If Regina's not busy, could she help Andrew Coy into a wheelchair in ICU three?" The nurse stood, glaring appraisingly at them. "Thanks," he murmured and turned back to Cameron. "Foreman looked… _stressed_. It's not like him. _Something_'s going on with him." She leaned against the desk beside him pensively.

Cameron was silent for only a moment before she spoke up again. "Seriously, though, _Laura_? Does she do anything for you?"

Chase turned to look at her uncertainly. "I've never even noticed her that way. And I've already given you my opinion on her sexual preference." Cameron was taken aback.

"You were being serious?"

"Yep. My instincts tell me she has a thing for you."

"Your instincts?" Cameron repeated sardonically.

"Hey, I was schooled by nuns. I can tell when women dislike men."

* * *

House bounced his yo-yo alongside his legs while he sat on Wilson's examination chair. Wilson, hidden behind a building mound of paperwork, was crouched over the desk with a mug of coffee. House spoke as he dreamily watched his yo-yo spin proficiently on the string, lolling up and down rhythmically.

"Who knew a woman of so few words could be domineering," he commented. "Foreman's got a gargantuan ego, which was somehow toppled by the ten-or-so words Laura voiced this morning. Unless eight of them were expletives, a five-foot elfin should not have that power over a burly black guy."

Wilson looked up. "What was that?"

House glanced at him, before returning his gaze to the yo-yo. "Foreman. When Chase suggested Hydatid disease, he argued against it until we dismissed it. Then this morning, he has a change of heart. Suggests an x-ray."

Wilson looked surprised. "Foreman? _Eric_ Foreman?"

"No, Theodore Francis Foreman. Works in paediatrics."

"Why do you think it has _anything_ to do with Laura?" Wilson asked, confused.

"Because they arrived into diagnostics together this morning."

"Wow, House. You're a genius," Wilson deadpanned.

House rolled his eyes. "You're just weepy 'cause my pocket's getting fatter every minute. The House always wins, Jimmy. Expect the wedding invite sometime around November."

* * *

Foreman was too engrossed by the blood work to notice the staunch silence that had descended over the lab. Laura wasn't actually making any sounds at all; he made a mental note to look up and monitor her responsiveness once he got a chance. He enjoyed the intricate, careful lab work. It was stereotyped as tedious, but once one reached the required realm of complete concentration, it was quite agreeable.

When his beeper sounded, he roused with a start and glanced at Laura. She was sitting near him, gazing into the eyepiece of a microscope, unperturbed by the interruption. He glanced down at the message on his pager's screen.

Cameron. They were finished with the CT scan; it was time for the x-ray.

"Laura," he called. "I'm going to take the patient for an x-ray. Are you coming?"

"Sure," came the soft reply, and the two of them finished up their work and stood. In complete silence, they walked the length to Andrew's room, where Cameron and Chase were sitting outside. The two stood as they approached, Cameron wearing a smile tinged with smugness and appraisal.

"It's not encephalitis. CT was clean," Chase informed them. Foreman nodded exasperatedly.

"We'll take him up for an x-ray," he decided, indicating himself and Laura. The four entered the room, where Andrew was still in his wheelchair. "The CT scan didn't tell us anything, so our next move is to get an x-ray," he told the family. Mr. Coy shook his head.

"Is that necessary? He was x-rayed when he arrived," he reminded. Foreman nodded.

"X-ray isn't just to determine bone fractures. It can be used to diagnose Hydatid disease," he told them. "In Andrew's case, Hydatid is unlikely, so the x-ray is just a precautionary measure." Mr. Coy seemed content with this and nodded in assent.

"And while Andrew is getting his x-ray, Dr. Cameron and I would hope to ask you two a few questions – maybe get a detailed history?" Chase added. The two nodded again.

* * *

"How long were you in the countryside before the attack?" Cameron began.

"About two weeks," replied Mr. Coy.

"Do you mind my asking why you moved from the city?"

"For personal reasons. Elizabeth and I had our marital troubles; we moved for a fresh start." He stretch out his arm and clasped his wife's hand in his.

"Is there many houses in the area?"

"No. It's mostly people from the city, like us, who move own summer-homes. "

"Who found your son after the attack?" Chase asked.

"I did. We went looking for him when he didn't come back on time for tea."

"He was unconscious?" Cameron questioned.

"Yes. Lying in the long grass just outside the wood."

"Could you identify the type of dog?"

"We didn't see it," replied Mrs. Coy. "He'd been lying there for over an hour, bleeding onto the ground."

Cameron sighed. She glanced at Chase who looked equally unenthused by the interview "Thanks. We'll talk to House." They stood up and walked off, waiting until they were out of earshot before either spoke.

"We need to find that dog," Chase remarked. "It's our only lead and we're running out of options."

Cameron nodded in agreement and sighed. "I still don't think it was the dog bite. You heard her; she said he was bleeding out in the middle of a field on the edge of a wood. What about animal faeces?" She inwardly cringed at the thought of all the testing ahead of her.

* * *

Foreman and Laura wheeled Andrew up to radiography. Awkward in the silence, Foreman had sped all the way up, until Andrew complained of nausea and he had been forced to slow down. Foreman had suggested they wait until the nausea had passed before they began the x-ray, so the three sat silently outside, Andrew sitting crouched over his legs. Suddenly, he raised his head.

"Hey, doctor, can I use a phone? I want to call my best friend." Foreman, relieved at the vocal interaction, nodded to him.

"Sure," he replied, standing up and walking around to the back of Andrew's wheelchair. Slowly, he pushed him to the nurses' station nearby, and leaned across the desk for the phone. "Go ahead," he murmured, before backing away and making his way back to Laura. He sat back down on his chair and rubbed his head with his hands. He'd spent all last night dwelling on this case. Yesterday morning, there had been so many plausible diagnoses he'd hesitated to volunteer a solitary one. Today, he was clutching onto a last remaining hope that an option he'd already dismissed might be correct.

It wasn't defoliant poisoning. It wasn't septicaemia. It wasn't allergens, or lyme disease, or Q fever. It wasn't encephalitis, and from a betting man's perspective, it probably wasn't Hydatid disease either.

The boy had been viciously attacked by a dog. It had bitten into his flesh – whatever was in the dog's mouth was given direct access to Andrew's blood stream. The dog had probably brushed itself against him, meaning anything in the dog's fur could have entered his body. Andrew had been knocked unconscious, and lay wounded in a wooded area while he bled. Insects, pesticides, fertilizers, insecticides, soil micro-organisms, humus and animal faeces could have been inhaled, absorbed by the skin or transferred directly into the blood.

Foreman began to grow frustrated. He continued rubbing his forehead, resting his elbows on his lap as he slouched forward in his chair. They had tested the blood for everything, all to no avail. Hours of lab work had passed, and, as they seemed no closer to a diagnosis, hours of lab work lay ahead of him.

In his mind, logical Eric was screaming that incidence in similar causative circumstances defied Hydatid disease. Exasperated Eric just crossed his fingers and prayed for larvae.

* * *

Foreman and Laura returned Andrew to ICU three to find Cameron and Chase waiting for them outside. They turned as the two approached with Andrew.

"'X-ray tell us anything?" Cameron asked hopefully. Foreman shook his head gruffly. Cameron sighed. She looked down at Andrew apologetically and pulled a jotter pad and pen from her pocket. "I'm sorry Andrew, but do you think you could give us a full description of the dog that attacked you?"

Andrew swallowed and paled slightly, and Cameron winced with guilt. He nodded resignedly.

"It was an alsatian," he announced with a distracted sigh. "Biggest I've ever seen. I think it had a metal collar; it was clinking a lot." Cameron nodded as she scrawled furiously. Chase stood next to her, listening. "I can't really remember anything else. It-it attacked me from behind, and I –"

"Don't worry about it," Chase interrupted, giving him an easy smile.

Cameron looked around at everyone. "We should go update House."

* * *

House was at his desk when the four arrived up, serenading him with their facts and findings.

"The CT was clear – no encephalitis," Cameron told him.

"As was the X-ray. No Hydatid," Foreman continued.

"We need to find the dog," Chase suggested. "We got a full description from the kid."

House nodded his consent. "Okay. Foreman, go with him. I'll hang with my bitches." Laura blushed but didn't otherwise react; Cameron narrowed her eyes warningly. House winked suggestively at her. Cameron crossed her arms and stared back challengingly. House raised his eyebrows mildly.

Yep, there was something going on. Yesterday, she had breakfast with Chase. Today, she wasn't responding prudishly to his faux-propositions. If anyone could put two and two together, it was House. And he was nearly always right.

He made a mental note to tell Wilson of this development. His employees were certainly randy this weather. Love was in the pond, so to speak.

* * *

Foreman and Chase drove east for about thirty minutes until they reached the small village close to the Coys' home. Foreman was driving, his GPS guiding him seemingly further and further into the depths of rural America. Chase had been calling around, inquiring about the dog. There had been no attacks reported since, and according to the local police department, many of the houses in proximity to Coys' owned registered attack dogs to guard against intruders. None of them, however, were alsatians, with the exception of family who lived over ten miles away. Chase consulted his scribbled notes and dialled the number for the nearest pound.

"Hi, I'm looking for an alsatian that was sighted about two days ago. Have you picked up any in the last two days?" Chase went silent as he listened. Foreman glanced over at him as Chase threw back an exasperated look. Foreman returned his gaze to the road as a few droplets of water splashed against the windscreen. Great. They'd have to examine the field in the rain.

"Okay, can you tell me if any of them were picked up in the general Edenville area?" Again, the car filled with silence. "Why not?" Chase probed. Foreman glanced at the GPS. According to the text, they were two miles from the estate. The rain began to slap harder and heavier against the car's exterior. It was about to downpour.

"Were any of them wearing collars? Something metallic, maybe?" Chase was beginning to sound desperate. After a pause, he shot, "thanks a lot," and flipped his phone shut. After a sigh of annoyance, he turned to Foreman.

"They're currently accommodating seventeen alsatians, and they don't keep record of when they found them or where from."

"No metal collars?" Foreman inquired.

"Nope."

Foreman sighed and glanced down at his GPS. He looked back out at the road and nudged Chase. "That's the Coys' house ahead on the left." Chase looked up interestedly at the enormous gateway ahead. The two stared at the house as they passed. The mansion was tall and striking, and at the end of a long, winding driveway. Chase let out a low whistle.

"Where are these woods?" he asked, surveying the area.

"Behind the house," Foreman muttered absently, flicking his indicator up and pulling in to the side of the road. He pulled back the handbrake and shut off the engine; the pelting rain outside became more apparent to Chase. Foreman turned to look at him. "Okay. I don't want to get wet, so we have to work quickly. I'm taking the umbrella and you take the keys. I'll head into the woods and look for a dead dog. You get samples from the field and then head back into the car. Wait for me. If I'm not back in twenty minutes, get the taser from the glove box and come look for me. Let's do this." Chase smirked at him before grabbing his bag from the back seat and tugging on the door latch.

* * *

Cameron and Laura were having a relatively quiet lunch together in the hospital canteen. Cameron didn't mind the silence as much as the guys did; it gave her time to think. When they were putting Andrew back into bed this morning, the nurse had discover a huge bruise forming on his stomach. It had only served as a reminder of the pain he was probably in, and Cameron's need to solve the case had experienced a rebirth.

Cameron, looking down at her plate, became aware that Laura had raised her head across from her. She looked up, bemused, only to discover that Laura's gaze wasn't upon Cameron herself, but some location just over her shoulder. Turning, she saw a courier holding a magnificent bouquet of flowers talking to the woman at the cash register. The lady pointed to their table and the man crossed the room towards them.

"Laura Cuddy?" the man asked, looking between the both of them. Laura was frozen in shock, staring at the flowers. Cameron indicated at Laura for the man, who then held out a clipboard for Laura to sign. Laura, still gazing wide-eyed at the flowers, made no move to take the pen from his hand. The courier looked uncertainly at Cameron.

"I'll sign for it, if you want." She took the pen and signed her name, before helping the man lay the enormous bouquet upon the tabletop. Laura's expression still hadn't changed, but her skin tone was gradually flushing a deep pink. Quite a crowd was watching as the man thanked them and left. Finally, Laura raised her head.

"Are these for me?" she asked Cameron in a small voice, her eyes still wide in mortification. Cameron smiled at her.

"They're flowers, not a box of grenades," she replied sensibly. "Open the card."

Laura timidly reached out and picked up the card, removing it from the small envelope. Her eyes slowly scanned the message. She blushed maroon.

Cameron laughed at her when she looked up. Plucking the card from her fingertips, Cameron read through the message and raised her eyebrows, looking quite pleased. Laura surveyed her reaction.

"Aren't you going to ask who 'You-Know-Who' is?" she asked Cameron testily.

"That's none of my business," Cameron responded. Laura narrowed her eyes accusatorily.

"You know who sent them," she realized. Cameron looked across the table at her, smiling guiltily.

"I might have heard something," she divulged.

* * *

House intercepted Wilson in the hallway and led him back to the diagnostics lounge.

"Why are you bringing me to diagnostics? If you want to molest me, it might be wiser to find somewhere more secluded than your glass box of an office," Wilson quipped.

"There's been an unexpected development," House told him. He pulled open the door of the lounge and Wilson followed him inside. Wilson took a seat at the table.

"What kind of development?" Wilson asked uncertainly.

"Cameron, Chase and some extra-curricular sex-tivities," House told him dramatically.

"_Get. Out_."

House nodded knowingly. Wilson looked shocked at this. He stared at House in amazement.

"How do _you_ know?" he asked him.

House pondered his answer. "I guess I just know everything," he replied sombrely.

Wilson looked at him skeptically. "What's happening with Foreman and Cuddy?"

"Well they've spent all morning together. And she should have gotten her flowers by now," House told him, glancing down at his watch.

"Extra tulips?"

"Absa-friggin-lutely."

The door opened and Laura stepped into the lounge carrying the huge bouquet, so tall it was obscuring her view. House winked at Wilson. "Shouldn't you be wearing a sash with 'Little Miss Princeton' on it?" House jibed. Laura dropped the bouquet in shock and whipped her head around at both House and Wilson.

She gulped and blushed furiously, bending over to pick up the flowers. Wilson, ever chivalrous, knelt beside her to retrieve stray flowers, and Laura crossed the room to the sink with the others. She filled a mug as a make-shift vase and put the flowers sitting in it on the washboard. House, meanwhile, had made his way over to the floor beside Wilson, and picked up the small white card.

"'You-Know-Who'?" he quipped, glancing over in her direction after reading it. "You got tulips from Voldemort?" Wilson rolled his eyes.

Laura twisted around and shot him a cold glare, before sweeping out of the room in indignation.

"You are _such_ a people person," Wilson surmised with cynical envy.

* * *

Cameron felt her cell vibrate rhythmically in her pocket. It gave her quite a shock, as she was alone in the lab; Laura had gone upstairs to put her flowers in water. Cameron dropped her pen and pulled her cell out.

Chase. Cameron's face broke into a smile.

"Cameron," she answered.

"Hey, it's Chase," came the reply.

"What's up?" she asked him, standing up and moving away from her microscope.

"Is it raining in Princeton?"

"Not the last time I checked."

"Well, I'm currently carrying around your weight in water."

Cameron chuckled at his disgruntled tone. "How's Foreman?"

"Oh, Foreman is dry. Umbrellas tend to leave you that way." Cameron could hear Foreman chuckle in the background. "Anyway, you need to ask Andrew if it was definitely an alsatian."

Cameron made her way across the lab and out the exit. "I'm gonna assume you guys haven't found the dog."

"Your assumption is correct."

Cameron pushed the elevator keypad to summon it. "Have you tried everywhere? The pound, animal control, nearby houses, nearby farmers…" The elevator doors opened with a soft _ding_ and Cameron stepped inside.

"All checked. No registered alsatians for ten miles. Plenty of guard dogs, though," Chase murmured down the line.

"What about the place where they found Andrew?" Cameron asked, while pressing the button for level four.

"I didn't really look around. Maybe if I'd had an _umbrella_–" Chase paused to emphasize, "I could have done a more thorough examination. I just bagged some soil samples and stuff."

Cameron sighed. They knew her opinion was that it was something in the soil, not something from the dog. If they'd spent as long inspecting the area as they had looking for the alsatian, they might have made a diagnosis by now. "Well, at least we have something to test," she supposed.

"I didn't forget about your opinion, Cam, I just didn't want to get pneumonia."

"Soil samples are fine. And pneumonia is curable."

"It also has all the vowels."

Cameron paused for a moment. "So it does," she murmured in surprised amusement. The elevator came to a halt on level four and the doors parted. "Okay, I'm almost there." She walked the short distance to ICU three and knocked on the doorframe whilst entering.

"Andrew, just one last question. That dog that attacked you: are you _positive_ it was an alsatian?" Again, Andrew swallowed and paled.

"I'm sure," he replied, nodding rapidly.

Cameron looked at Mr. and Mrs. Coy apologetically. "Sorry about the disturbance." She backed out of the room and brought her cell phone back to her ear. "Yeah, Chase, he's sure."

"Damn it." A sigh. "I'll see you in a while."

"Bye." Cameron flipped her phone shut and put the phone back into her pocket. Again, she pressed for the elevator and waited for it to arrive. Maybe she should ask Chase out. Her best friend was throwing a party the coming Friday; was it appropriate to ask him? She had told her girlfriends so much about him, so maybe it wasn't wise.

The elevator dinged it's arrival, and a young boy toppled out and landed straight on her. She managed to maintain her balance, but the boy just bounced off her and landed in a heap on the floor.

"Are you alright?" Cameron asked him concernedly, kneeling down by his side.

He broke into hysterical giggles. Cameron looked down at him bemused.

"I was leaning," he managed to tell her, "and– and the doors…" he gestured by making a wall with his two hands and pulling them apart suddenly. Cameron flinched. His laugh was nothing more than a quiet wheezing noise, and Cameron, glad that he was okay but anxious to leave his side, stood up and got into the elevator.

* * *

Cameron arrived back in the lab to find Laura had already resumed the blood work. Laura looked around to identify the arrival, and looked curiously at her.

"Where'd you go?" she asked her. Cameron raised her eyebrows. That was one of the most forward things she'd heard Laura say.

"Chase called, I had to go up to Andrew's room," Cameron replied, sitting down alongside Laura and pulling her glasses down over her eyes.

The two returned their concentration to the blood testing. After a minute, Laura looked up and across at Cameron.

"Are you and Dr. Chase dating?"

Cameron looked over, startled. "Why would you think that?" she asked her, intently.

Laura shrugged. "You're an efficient team. You work well together, understand each other, and Lisa's… _Dr. Cuddy_'s secretary mentioned that you two used to go out." Cameron was taken aback. Laura, sensing Cameron's discomfort, turned back to her notes and began scribbling.

After a moment, Cameron spoke up. Laura listened while she spoke; Cameron was surprised to learn that this was a skill of hers. "We weren't _dating_," she clarified. "It was more of a… one-time thing."

"That sucks," Laura commented after she processed this. Cameron looked over at her.

"It wasn't like _that_. I initiated it; I just… needed a good time."

Laura watched Cameron intently. "You have a crush on him, don't you?" she questioned, a smile playing upon her lips. Cameron met her eyes and gave her an earnest look of affirmation. "Why don't you just ask him out? He's _obviously_ into you."

Cameron cocked a skeptical eyebrow. "No, that's just Chase. He's like that with everyone."

"So, what? You're going to ignore it for the next thirty years until you retire from here?"

"Who sent the flowers? Are they getting a thank-you card any time soon?" Cameron shot back.

"Maybe, if you'd just tell me who sent them."

"Hey, you're the one who 'Knows-Who'."

"I have my suspects."

"And weren't you just dispensing advice on trusting your instincts?"

"'Hypocrisy' is my middle name," Laura retorted.

"Well, mine is 'Cautious'."

"Suits you."

"My parents thought so."

* * *

Foreman pulled into the hospital parking lot, immediately ushering Chase to vacate the passenger seat.

"You're ruining my upholstery, man," Foreman complained when Chase refused to move. Chase threw him a look of incredulity.

"Oh, I apologise for the inconvenience," he shot back. Foreman sighed and reversed into his space. After shutting off the engine, they both unlocked their seatbelts and exited the vehicle.

From a distance, they could see two security guards escorting a boy out of the hospital. The boy was in his teens, and scrambling uncontrollably in their hold. Once the guards released him and headed back inside, he looked over his shoulder and began shouting unintelligible obscenities at the two men, oblivious to the obstacles ahead in the path he was walking. He tripped up, banging his head against the concrete. Chase and Foreman rushed forward.

"Are you okay?" Foreman asked, while Chase knelt at the boy's side. He rolled over, to reveal a sharp cut at his hairline, just above his temple.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbled, "'second time that's happened today." The boy tried to sit up, but Chase pushed a hand against his chest and forced him to lie back down.

"You might have concussion," Chase warned the boy. After inspecting the injuries, he indicated the boy's forehead. "And you'll need to get that seen to." Chase stood up and offered the boy his hand for assistance. "C'mon."

The boy grasped Chase's hand and allowed himself to be pulled up. He looked at Chase curiously for a minute, blinking hard. "Why are you wet?" he asked Chase. Chase chuckled, and Foreman grabbed the boy by the sleeve and led him towards the door.

They accompanied the boy to the ER, before Chase headed up for diagnostics to dry off. Foreman found a seat for the boy, and decided to check him in.

"What's your name?" he inquired, shaking off his own wet jacket.

"Tommy Taylor," the boy replied, his eyes meeting Foreman's for a moment. Foreman frowned at him, moving closer to inspect his face.

"Your pupils are dilated," he murmured. "Are you high, Tommy?"

"Yeah, but don't worry – I'm a civilized stoner," Tommy assured him, giggling timidly at his joke.

Foreman growled softly in annoyance. "Why did you come in here in the first place?"

Tommy ceased his giggling and looked in Foreman's direction, his eyes still unfocused. "I was visiting a friend. Hey, maybe you know him. Andy. Andrew Coy." Foreman furrowed his brow and considered this. "He's my best friend."

* * *

Chase peeled off his shirt from where it clung to his damp torso. He'd found a pair of clean scrubs and a towel, and decided to rid himself of his drenched clothes for the remainder of the day. He pulled the top over his shoulders and tied the drawstring of his pants and began pulling on his white coat as he exited the dressing room.

Once outside, Cameron, bearing a mug of steaming coffee, intercepted him. He shrugged his coat onto his shoulders and gave her a grateful smile. She offered him the mug, but when he reached forward to accept it, she withdrew. He threw her a puzzled look.

Cameron cleared her throat. "This particular mug of steaming hot, freshly made coffee, with two creams and one sugar, as you like it, comes with one, _tiny,_ string attached," she explained. Chase smirked accommodatingly, and Cameron continued. "You see, these Brazilian-roasted coffee beans were boiled in water with care and affection," she elucidated, bringing the coffee to her nose and closing her eyes as she inhaled seductively. "So it's only fair that, in exchange for this mug of aromatic pleasure, you agree to go out with me on Friday."

Chase raised an eyebrow, grinning at her as she finished. He took a step closer to her and leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. "You had me at 'steaming hot'." Cameron grinned and allowed him to pluck the mug from her hands.

* * *

House and Laura were the first to answer to Foreman's summons for a meeting. Of course, Foreman himself hadn't yet appeared, so the two sat in an irritable silence, interrupted occasionally by an audacious comment from House.

"So, Laura, you get flowers often? Or are you more of a dollar-bills kind of girl?"

Laura shot him a glare, and House smirked at the reaction.

"What? All I'm saying is that if someone's enjoying your work, it sure isn't here they're enjoying it." Laura rolled her eyes and House grinned broadly. Chase pulled open the glass door and he and Cameron entered, taking their seats at the table.

"What's happening?" Cameron asked them.

"We're waiting for Foreman to show," House informed her, before turning to Chase. "How'd the field trip go?"

"Pretty unproductive. There are no registered alsatians within ten miles of the Coys' estate, and the nearest pound don't record when or where they pick up the dogs."

The glass door swung open and Foreman entered, dragging Tommy by his upper-arm. Tommy's cut had been bandaged, and Foreman marched him to a chair and forced him into a seating position.

"Everyone, this is Tommy Taylor, Andrew Coy's best friend. Tommy, why don't you tell them what you told me?" Foreman prompted, and Tommy looked wide-eyed over at him, before turning back around to face the small audience watching him.

"Uh… well," Tommy began uncertainly, "Andy and I used to hang out all the time before his parents moved him out of the city. Then, a month ago, they found some needles in his bedroom, and they freaked. The next week, their apartment was up for rent." Everyone was silent for a minute, processing this new information. House was staring intently at Tommy as he spoke.

"Did Andrew use it often?" Chase asked sternly. Tommy nodded.

"As much as I did. But I don't think his parents realised just how deep in he was."

"He's sixteen," Cameron pointed out. "How deep is 'deep in'?"

"Well, all I know is before he left, he was having some trouble getting money up-front. He maxed out his bank account. Our supplier was getting a bit antsy."

"So when they left the city, did he just stop using?" Cameron asked. Tommy began squirming uncomfortably in his seat and Foreman had to press down on his shoulders to make him answer.

"I gave him some LSD." Cameron scoffed in disgust. Foreman, Chase and Laura were all looking put out by this, but House kept his neutral expression.

"Who was your supplier?" he asked quietly. Tommy, taken aback, focused his attention in House's direction for the first time.

"Uh, Jimmy the Underdog. He works for the Alsatian, Big Joe Forelli."

"Because he attacks like a dog?"

"I guess so."

* * *

House barged into ICU three, and Mr. and Mrs. Coy jumped in surprise. He limped across the room and drew open the blinds, turning to find Andrew squinting on the bed.

"Hey Andy, how're you feeling?" he questioned, plonking down onto the bed at Andrew's feet.

"Who are you?" asked Mr. Coy, annoyed by the disturbance.

"I'm Dr. House," House replied. "Well, Andy, how _are_ you doing?" House continued.

Andrew kept his eyes shut, looking just as irritated as before. "I'm a little nauseous, and my head hurts," he responded. House nodded.

"Mmmhmm, mmmhmm… two very likely symptoms of heroin withdrawal," he remarked.

"Heroin withdrawal?" Mrs. Coy repeated. "What has Tommy Taylor been saying about our son? I requested for him to be removed from this hospital. My son needs treatment for dog attack injuries, not heroin withdrawal."

"Unless your son was so doped on LSD at the time to figure out he was being attacked by his supplier's friends."

"That is preposterous, House!" shouted Mr. Coy. "A physician of your esteem should be able to identify a dog bite when they see one!"

"That's why they call him the Alsatian," House pointed out. "'You get on his bad side, he'll come for you with weapons that mimic a dog bite. Andrew here was wired on LSD, and after he was knocked out, they beat him, probably talking about Big Joe Forelli while they did it. When he woke up in hospital, all he remembered was being attacked by 'the Alsatian'. When he was describing the attack, he used the foaming-mouth stereotype, and described the noises he heard from his blinged-out attackers." House paused to give them time to consider this. He looked over at Andrew. "That bruise on your stomach isn't from a dog. And if you want the headaches and nausea to stop, you better let me treat you for withdrawal. Show them your arm."

* * *

Cameron and Chase had just finished administering Andrew with his first dose of methadone. As Tommy had suggested, Andrew's parents hadn't been aware that his dabbles with heroin had developed into total dependence. Their blood tests had already ruled out HIV and hepatitis, so the Coys' concern for their son had quickly evaporated and condensed into furious embarrassment. It was impossible not to notice the hostile atmosphere that now occupied the room, so the two had hone about their business as briefly and efficiently as possible.

"So, where are we going on Friday night?" Chase asked lightly as they made their way back to diagnostics to finish for the day.

"My best friend is having a party. I needed a date." Cameron shrugged. "You're the guinea pig."

"I'd be offended if I didn't think guinea pigs the most dashing rodents ever to walk the earth."

"That's relatively disturbing." Cameron came to a halt at the top of the corridor, and threw out a hand to stop Chase too. Through the glass of the lounge door, two figures could be clearly seen, one tall and broad, the other small and waiflike. Foreman was shrugging on his jacket, and Laura was already fully dressed for leaving. It looked as though the two of them were in light conversation, Laura appearing as reticent as ever. "Is it just me, or are Foreman's eyes glazed over?"

Chase rubbed a hand through his hair awkwardly as he squinted to inspect the picture. "They're definitely shinier than usual," he commented, looking rather disinterested. In the lounge, they could see Foreman move towards the door, holding it open for Laura to exit before him.

"C'mon," Cameron muttered, taking Chase by his coat cuff and pulling him forward. "See you guys tomorrow," she called as the two pairs bypassed each other. After a chorus of farewells, Chase and Cameron entered the lounge.

* * *

Foreman's eyes were really itchy, but ever since his childhood, he'd seen an itch as a personal test of stamina. To scratch would be a victory for everyone who'd ever told him he couldn't do something he set his mind to, and even though it was stupid, there was a lot of truth in it. Take Chase, for example. The man had had his entire career handed to him on a silver plate, and if a single follicle ever tickled his scalp, he brought his hand straight to his head and scratched.

Laura was, as usual, being quiet, and he was glad of the distraction that was his tenacity. He didn't have to focus on the absence of conversation. Laura seemed to have taken a liking to him, and even though he hated keeping up the artificial appearance of constant complimenting and ego-boosts, he still had to consider the possibility that Laura might be mentally unstable. House was his boss, and if House wanted a psyche report, albeit from a neurologist, that was what House was going to get.

They arrived at Laura's car, and Foreman lingered beside her for a minute, waiting for her to get in. Laura made no move to get inside, but stood there, looking into his eyes. Foreman, not enjoying this attention while his eyes ached from itch, stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Deciding on a course of action, he leaned forward and reached an arm around her back to tug on the door handle.

Laura, misunderstanding Foreman's intentions, shut her eyes and leaned in to meet him and pressed her lips against his. In alarms, Foreman pulled back, taking a few steps backwards and away from the car. Every inch of Laura's pale skin began to slowly redden and she brought a hand to her mouth in shock.

"Bye, see you tomorrow," she chirped in a high-pitched tone, opening the door, sitting in and pulling out of her space so fast that Foreman was left standing there, almost confused about her sudden disappearance.

Maybe a psyche evaluation wouldn't be such a bad idea.

* * *

Chase had also walked Cameron to her car. Pressed against the door, with his teeth tugging gently on her earlobe, Cameron wondered why she'd ever doubted asking him out. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to enjoy the sensation of his thumb gently stroking the delicate skin below her belly. Only vaguely aware that they were making out in the staff car park, she remembered being a teenager and absently watching her peers as they did the same in public areas. Of course, she'd never admit to Chase that this was the lewdest thing she'd ever done in public.

Cameron turned her head and caught his lips with hers, kissing him back hungrily. She brought her hands to his hair, pulling him closer to her, and his hands began to climb higher beneath her sweater. Again, his lips veered away from hers, and she sighed softly as he trailed intimate kisses along her jaw.

The moment was spoiled by the sudden interruption of a text message. The beep sounded loudly from Cameron's pocket, Chase stepping backward in alarm. She shot him an apologetic look, reaching into her pocket for her cell phone and glancing at the screen.

"It's from Laura," Cameron noted with a hint of surprise. Chase glanced over curiously.

"You just said goodbye to her. What's it say?"

Cameron's eyes scanned the text, confused. She met Chase's eyes and then looked back down at the screen. "'I'm more humiliated than I've ever been in my life, but I'm coming in to work tomorrow. I keep quiet for a reason. House should prepare himself for verbal war.'"

* * *

_The End._

Okay, fist of all, mega-thanks to everyone who took the time to review 'The Ugliness of Nepotism'. Y'all are awesome. You guys turned the heebie-jeebies of a fanfic-virgin into the warm fuzzies of a proud author.

Secondly, it's obvious from the above that I still have a _lot_ to learn, so keep up the constructive criticism! From reading your comments, I figured you guys were dissatisfied with the ending, so this time, I planned in advance. Duh, Claire Geraldine.

Anyway, I'm gonna leave this story here. But please review! 'Cause reviewers rock. Diggidy.

-CG


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